


a thousand times good night

by floralin



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Romeo and Juliet Fusion, Forbidden Love, Implied Family Issues, Inspired by Romeo and Juliet, M/M, Nobility, Rival Families, the w korea photoshoot destroyed me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralin/pseuds/floralin
Summary: “My darling,” Johnny laughs, a brittle sound, “you are a precious flame, and I am the fool who has dared to steal it from the hearth.”Heart in his throat, Jaehyun steps forth, trembling. “And do pray tell, foolish Prometheus—what if the flame is willing to be stolen?”(now with a vietnamese translationhere!)
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 28
Kudos: 98





	a thousand times good night

**Author's Note:**

> the w korea photoshoot did a number on me—if you haven't seen it yet, it's [here](http://www.wkorea.com/2020/04/23/stay-fearless-nct-127-%EC%9F%88%EB%8B%88-%EC%9E%AC%ED%98%84/?ddw=68148&ds_ch=twitter&utm_source=twitter&utm_medium=SNS)  
>    
> **this is not based off of the 1996 movie version of romeo & juliet that the photoshoot referenced; this is more of a classic romeo & juliet-esque idea that came to mind
> 
> **i am aware that jaehyun’s preferred romanization of his last name is ‘jeong’ and not ‘jung’, but for the sake of mentioning his au!sisters here (whose last names are romanized ‘jung’ irl) we will be using ‘jung’.
> 
> title taken from a quote from romeo and juliet and [this track](http://youtu.be/P5avN2fhvEQ) from the 2013 romeo & juliet movie (that i haven't watched, but listened to the entire soundtrack of while writing this fic)  
>   
> enjoy <3

It goes that the Jung family is one of the most highly-respected, admirable ones of them all, an aristocracy stretching back centuries, exceptionally proud and rightfully so.

Whatever amount of that is true, Jaehyun does not know. He knows they are of the rich class, the nobility, and beyond that is all story, all words that spill from the mouths of his grandmother, his relatives, his father most of all.

He does not know how the outside world views them nor how the commoners speak of them behind closed doors, but he does know that they have a rival family, one they have been throat to throat with for generations, one that his own despises with a fuming hatred built upon years of vendetta. He knows this and nothing else, and he wonders what the commoners think.

(“ _Filth_ ,” hisses his father. In his fist sits a crumpled letter, a hint of silver peeking through, and if he shifts his hand just the slightest it would reveal the notorious stamp of the Seos, a coat of arms in wax, at the bottom of the page.

Jaehyun has never understood a word of their rivalry despite his heritage, despite the blood flowing through his veins that clearly marks him as one of the Jungs, the blood that, his father has reminded him and his siblings time and time again, should hate the Seos with a fierceness for all the bloodshed they have caused their own family, for all the lost and dead and wronged.

He has never met a Seo. He wonders if they have glowing eyes and malevolent smiles and the horns of the devil like he has imagined all evil to possess. He wonders if Seo Youngho, their eldest and only child, shares any of his interests. He wonders if they will ever meet.

“Come,” Sooyeon beckons quietly, arm curling around his small form; she is still over a head taller than him and he goes easily in her grip. “Do not listen, do not look,” she repeats, the phrase as familiar as a nursery rhyme. Jaehyun echoes it a few notches softer, as do his other siblings.

“ _Do not listen, do not look._ ”)

His mother is different.

His mother smiles, pained, when Jaehyun asks behind his father’s back why things are the way they are. His mother strokes a hand over the top of his head, lifts him into her lap, and hums in thought, but never says a word.

She raises her voice at their father only when she thinks they have gone to bed; it is edged with frustration, demanding for their generation to end the feud once and for all, and Jaehyun holds Sooyeon’s hand and tries to ignore the sinking, clawing feeling in his stomach as she leads him away from the doors.

His father is wrong, he believes. Wrong in the unjustified way he speaks of the Seos as if they are lowlives, as if there are not some of them who must bear the same sense Jaehyun does, that this rivalry has dragged on for far too long. His father is wrong, and so were all the Jungs who came before them for holding this empty vendetta.

All this he thinks, but never dares say aloud.

♧

He grows up wonderfully, they say. Bearing the very essence of his family name—the pride and joy of his parents, cherished heart of his siblings, handsome and intelligent and well-spoken—Jung Jaehyun is a sight to behold wherever he is present.

“ _Jung Jaehyun is perfect,_ ” the pseudo-whispers go, gazes following him half-awed, half-envious. He holds his chin high and sets his face solemnly like he has been taught to do so, never doing so much as quirking an eyebrow at the comments trailing after him as he walks in line next to his siblings during social events.

Through galas and functions, he is always approached by many, all interested, too interested for his liking, and it is when he realizes that the whispers have become a label, a crown placed on his head, an expectation to display.

Jaehyun is not perfect, and he knows this all too well. But expectations are expectations, and if they require him to act the part, he shall do just that.

Eventually, unexpectedly, this monotonous routine breaks, and it breaks in the form of a lone figure in the courtyard on a particular evening when his family is hosting a gathering for the elite.

Jaehyun has slipped out unbeknownst to his parents, deterred by the increasingly insistent declarations of his father that it will soon be time for him to find a suitable partner in marriage. He knows countless sons and daughters of fellow aristocrats are waiting in line and hoping to be chosen, and he also knows that they will never see him as more than what he plays to be: a handsome, wealthy doll.

He is known by all and known by none at the same time, and it is the bizarreness of the situation that tugs at his curiosity when he notices the intruder leaning against a pillar.

“Quite the event,” the stranger says once Jaehyun has caught sight of him. “The Jungs truly do live up to expectations.”

There is nothing mocking that resides in his tone, though the words can easily be misinterpreted, and Jaehyun narrows his eyes; he is familiar with every voice of those his parents hold close, and this person is not one of them. He is not hostile, not an immediate danger, but unknown nonetheless.

“Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself?” he asks, politely commanding. His hand lingers near his sword.

For a moment, the stranger remains quiet. _Has he miscalculated after all?_

Tension cuts the air, uncertain and thick, and Jaehyun is about to draw his weapon when the other person steps out of the shadows and throws back the hood which obscured his identity.

Hand releasing the hilt, Jaehyun stands and looks.

The man seems a bit older and stands taller, all broad shoulders and firm, noble-like stance. He is handsome; that is undeniable, with the chiseled yet gentle features of his face and dark hair falling over his gaze, lips slightly parted as their eyes meet momentarily. Princelike.

None of this, however attractive, can distract Jaehyun from the telltale glint of silver thread embroidered into the corner of his vest—a crest, a crest that Jaehyun has seen too many times printed on letters under harsh scrutiny and foul words, crumpled in angry fists, torn to shreds. A crest that speaks louder than any words.

Jaehyun thinks of his own, the gold weaved between fibers to form a symbol that must be glared upon with the same burning hatred from certain others, a symbol he now brings a hand to and traces carefully, self-consciously. He is suddenly far too aware of his own breathing.

“Good evening,” the man intended to be his enemy begins, eyes falling to the crest on Jaehyun’s attire and then back to his own. They seem to have reached the same conclusion.

“Your name,” Jaehyun prompts, persistent. He is unable to conceal the minuscule fear in his voice, fear of what he has known the moment he laid eyes on that accursed crest, and of what might happen if someone catches them here in the courtyard, exchanging pleasantries.

“Youngho.” The stranger speaks quietly. “My name is Youngho, but I would prefer Johnny.”

No last name is mentioned—Jaehyun already knows.

“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Jung Jaehyun.”

Seo Youngho, Johnny, does not move an inch from where he stands, yet it seems like his presence has drawn closer, close enough that Jaehyun instinctively wants to rear back, to leave, to get away because this is what he has been warned about for years—the day he will inevitably meet one of the people his blood has sworn to go against—their son, no less, an exact parallel to Jaehyun’s own position in the scheme of how their generation will be led one day.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he returns easily, because years of training in eloquence do not whittle away so quickly from surprise alone. “Though I believe I have the right to inquire why you are here, in a territory you will suffer punishment from being in if caught by the wrong people.”

There is a twinkle in Johnny’s eyes, a dash of mischief as he steps closer. “So I take it you are one of the right people, then?”

“I do not share my father’s hatred for your family,” answers Jaehyun, “if that is what you mean.”

Still, he cannot help but let his thoughts wander free, to think that the man whose lineage his family has sworn eternal vengeance against has honey-brown eyes and a charmingly kind smile, speaks quite ordinarily, without the pompousness of so many others of his rank. Jaehyun’s heart thumps against his chest loudly, and he treads forward.

“You are beautiful,” Johnny observes. “The descriptions I have heard do not do you justice.”

Under different circumstances, the words are blatant, shameless flattery, but there is an honesty behind these that makes Jaehyun hesitate in letting them dissolve unacknowledged, as well as in caution of ulterior motives. He chooses the safer route.

“A shame, how my ears have grown tired of that line.”

To his surprise, Johnny frowns. “It is far too objectified; I apologize for putting it that way.”

A Seo, apologizing to a Jung for saying something he has received during almost every social occasion he has ever attended. His father would have laughed, incredulous. But his mother would not.

_The air they breathe makes them as human as we are, no less complex, nor more flawed._

“People claim that you are the personification of gold itself, precious and wanted. A treasure.” Johnny draws nearer still. “I have met you, and I believe they are gravely mistaken.” His eyes shine, captivating.

“Is there a certain way you would put it?” Jaehyun whispers, and they are close enough now that he can reach out and trace the Seo crest with a raised hand, breath fanning out against each other in the cool evening.

“You are brighter than any gold,” says Johnny, “I can see it here, in the way you have spoken to me, in the way you hold yourself.” An air of reverence goes about the way he lifts a hand and hovers it over the side of Jaehyun’s face, fingers shaking slightly as they brush a stray bit of hair behind his ear. Jaehyun swallows down the hitch of his breath. “It would be no surprise to me if you could outwit all my father’s allies with words alone.”

“Are you implying that I am a trickster?” Jaehyun asks, smiling faintly.

“Cunning, I prefer,” comes the reply. “You are intriguing, Jung Jaehyun.”

“As are you, Seo Youngho.”

He should not find Johnny’s responding smirk entrancing; he should not find it anything but brazen and audacious, but Jaehyun’s conscience has long abandoned him and there is a thrill in knowing that he is engaging in something forbidden yet so enthralling, cheek pressed against the warm palm of a man meant to be his opponent in every way.

“This feud of ours,” he murmurs. Such a concept seems so trivial now, so unnecessary and ludicrous when they stand here, Johnny’s gaze curious as he sweeps a thumb carefully over the rise of Jaehyun’s cheekbone, boundaries forgotten. Here they are, names making no difference in how they treat each other. “What a stupid, stupid thing, this expired anger.”

“It has gone on for far too long,” Johnny agrees, and, consciously, Jaehyun’s eyes fall to the crest adorning his attire once again. It shines, almost mockingly, as if laughing at him, at the circumstances he has found himself in—standing so close to the son of the family that his own has despised for generations—the metallic symbols sewed to their clothing the only reminder of who they are and where they should stand.

Only, Jaehyun no longer cares for reminders.

“A shame to let it intervene,” he begins, eyes searching Johnny’s. “A shame that bloodlines have more say in our identities than our own selves.”

“Indeed,” the other says, contemplation veiling the delight in his voice, though both parts are heard anyway, and if Jaehyun tilts his head up just the slightest their noses could brush. “What a pointless barrier.”

“What do you plan to do, then?” Jaehyun asks, challenges. “What now, Seo Youngho?”

The hand gripping his tightens, and suddenly something cold and solid presses against Jaehyun’s palm. A ring—a _Seo_ ring.

“I will return soon,” Johnny promises, drawing back as Jaehyun slips the piece of jewelry into the inner folds of his over-robe. The hand drops from his cheek, leaving it feeling strangely cold. “Until then, I trust you with this.”

“A rather mindless decision, is it not?” Jaehyun cannot help but ask.

“Perhaps it is.” A wry smile. “Perhaps I am walking down a pointless road anyway.”

“And if I am your demise? The end of that road?”

Johnny answers without hesitation. “If it is you, Jung Jaehyun, I do not think I would mind at all.”

This time, Jaehyun does not hide the way his breath catches.

Under an early night of stars, in a courtyard filled with the scent of summer blossoms, the eldest son of the esteemed Jung family goes against everything he has ever been taught all for the sake of keeping calloused fingertips and an entrancing voice in his memory, for the sake of retaining a small, dangerous sliver of hope.

Against all they have promised their families, against the age-old hatred that spreads, vinelike, still tainting parts of their generation, the lives of a Jung and Seo come together one summer’s eve.

_An ironic twist of fate, isn’t it?_

♧

Johnny keeps his promise.

He keeps his promise, but Jaehyun keeps the ring, for there has never been a reason to give it back; at least, not yet. Not until there comes a day when Johnny can no longer return to him. It is an if, always an if.

Underlying fear, something that sweet words and comforting touches cannot wash away, hangs over them like the darkening clouds before a thunderstorm, foreboding, uncertain, threatening. Jaehyun cannot bring himself to care about what happens to himself if they are discovered, but—for Johnny—he does, and he worries.

It goes like this through days turning into weeks. As the last bits of sunlight disappear beneath a shroud of night, Johnny scales up Jaehyun’s balcony, smile glowing, and what remains of any unpleasantness Jaehyun has collected during the day will vanish instantly.

They converse easily. Instead of politics and the other meaningless topics traded over stiff dining tables, Johnny will ask him about things like readings from their library he has found particularly memorable of late, little questions that seem so ordinary but carry weight and meaning, bits and pieces of Jaehyun himself, his identity unraveled slowly before Johnny to see. They find that bantering is fun when it is between the two of them, exchanging quick remarks back and forth about topics far more interesting than, say, the Lees’ recent alliance with the Huang estate and what it will mean for such and such.

Johnny’s mind is tireless and Jaehyun’s matches his pace effortlessly, and that is perhaps the only form of solace in their lives—each other. Two doves in the midst of elites, in the midst of a world of heritage and wealth and reputation; they exist, wanting nothing more than the genuine company of another who will not look at their surface values.

Still, there is tension, though not of the offending kind, that lies between them. It has remained since the very first night of their encounter, of lingering touches and stares that are too intimate and long to be meaningless, gazes catching on lips and the space between them gradually growing smaller and smaller. The gestures continue to go unspoken.

Jaehyun grows tired of it. He grows tired, and the stagnancy of everything festers into ugliness.

“You are running,” he says when it is well past a month of their secret rendezvousing, and Johnny flinches away, an unreadable expression marring his features.

“I am not,” he protests, and it is so clearly a lie—clear as day.

Jaehyun fixes an exasperated look upon his face. “You are.”

“There is nothing to run from.” Sweeping his cloak behind him, Johnny turns away towards the gardens, hands gripping the balcony’s edge. His knuckles are pale. Johnny has never acted so apathetic.

“If there is nothing to run from, Seo Youngho, then why have you been running since the first evening we met?” Jaehyun asks, bristling slightly. “You approached me with your pleasantries and gentle caution and all your tenderness and it is no secret between us that I am in-”

“Don’t.” Johnny’s voice shakes.

“And why not?”

“Because, my darling,” Johnny laughs, a brittle, humorless sound, “you are a precious flame, and I am the fool who has dared to steal it from the hearth.” His voice catches slightly.

Heart in his throat, Jaehyun steps forth, trembling. “And do pray tell me, foolish Prometheus,”—Johnny lifts his head at the reference— "what if the flame is willing to be stolen?”

Something shatters between them, replaced by an unnerving clarity. Johnny breathes sharply.

“Do not, Jaehyun. I beg of you.”

It is a plea, quiet and broken in despair, with a multitude of emotions flashing through his eyes at once as their gazes meet; Jaehyun prays to the stars for words, for the _right_ words. They do not come.

The stars blink above, distant and cold, and he is alone.

 _Do not_.

He does anyway.

“Seo Youngho,” he begins, tentative, and Johnny stands and looks at him, only looks, and does not stop him. “Johnny.”

Slowly, he steps closer, suddenly feeling fragile as the elder continues to stare, unmoving, fear-tinged anticipation in his eyes.

“Johnny,” he repeats. Just Johnny. It has never been more. “I have loved you since the day you came back.”

 _Does it change anything_ , his thoughts wonder. _Does it matter at all, what will become of them both? Does it matter now, that he has said it aloud?_

He receives no answer but silence.

“Do you remember the myth of Prometheus?” Jaehyun continues, clasping the cuffs of Johnny’s sleeves with both hands. “The gods were selfish. They hid fire deep where it could not be seen, and Prometheus stole it and gifted it to humans, where it burned brighter with purpose.”

Johnny looks at him, truly _looks_ at him, and hope flutters nervously in Jaehyun’s chest.

“Prometheus was a hero, a savior to mankind,” Jaehyun says slowly. “If you are a thief, stealing away the fire from the hearth, then I am the flame, and I shall go with you freely.”

“You will suffer,” whispers Johnny, anguished, “you will suffer if you choose me.”

“I will gladly suffer if it means I can be with you,” Jaehyun says, fierce in his resolve. Belatedly, he realizes that his hands have come up to cup Johnny’s face. The other does not pull away.

“We cannot be together like this. Not peacefully.”

“Johnny,” Jaehyun says, his patience finally wearing down to its last thread. “Tell me this, at the very least, even if our time is limited.” He’s treading waters here, testing a line. “Do you love me?”

Hands settle on his waist, welcomed. There is not a trace of hesitation in Johnny’s voice when he says, “I love you more than anything.”

His declaration is not shocking, but it settles the irrational doubt in Jaehyun’s mind—the fear that his feelings have not been returned dissolving and instead filled with ardency.

“Will you kiss me, then?” he asks.

Johnny’s eyes glimmer in the night. In this moment, they are vulnerable. And then he leans down, ever so slowly, nudging foreheads, and presses their lips together. Tentative.

He draws away too soon, a heartbeat of hesitation as if afraid that he will somehow hurt Jaehyun, so Jaehyun pulls him back not a moment later, kisses him more insistently, chasing, and Johnny relents. The tension drains out of his body and the hands resting on Jaehyun’s waist tighten, grow more confident. It’s exhilarating, all the pent-up feelings between them let loose. Johnny is warm and feels safe, safer than anything, and he is all that Jaehyun has ever wanted.

Their night is fleeting. Tugging once, Jaehyun breaks their kiss, letting himself slacken in Johnny’s embrace. A laugh escapes his lips, breathless and euphoric, and Johnny presses a kiss to his cheekbone, unable to keep from smiling.

Winter is coming, yet it does not feel cold at all. They have each other and they are together. It is enough, he thinks, enough for now, enough for what they have and where they are and _who_ they are. For now.

♧

Months pass, and Johnny comes with news. So does Jaehyun.

“I am to be engaged,” Johnny breathes when he arrives, taking Jaehyun’s hands into his own, cradling them; he is harried. “The choice of person has not been made, but it will be in a few weeks.”

Jaehyun’s gaze falls to the ground. “My family has selected a county as well,” he says, and feels rather than sees Johnny exhale harshly.

This is not a surprise. They have always known, deep down, that the time will come when their duties and expectations outweigh themselves, but Jaehyun had not thought it would be so soon.

He thinks of the ring that sits in his bedside drawer. He thinks of a life without Johnny. He considers it, being married to someone who is not the man standing before him, and it is unfathomable.

“So soon,” he whispers, not a question nor statement—simply said for the sake of having something to say, to fill this uncertainty that lies between them.

“I love you,” Johnny says, an edge of desperation to it, and Jaehyun kisses him in answer.

For a few minutes, there is only silence as they embrace each other tightly, trying to memorize every edge and curve of the figure pressed against theirs; Johnny’s hands are trembling ever so slightly, and Jaehyun knows he is frightened, fearing that this will be the last time they can stand like this, drinking in nothing but each other’s presence. He, too, is afraid.

“I am sorry,” Johnny murmurs, eyes devastatingly sorrowed as he cups Jaehyun’s face. “You are precious, love, and you deserve so much more.”

Firmly, Jaehyun shakes his head, intertwining their hands. “I love you and only you, and I will have no one else. It does not matter.”

He does not want it to matter. He wants to be Jaehyun, without a name and reputation to care for, and he wants to be Jaehyun who is in love with Johnny like the commoners below who, despite their own difficulties, are free to love whoever they choose.

What remains of his rationality protests that it matters severely, that it _does_ change, because in the end, visions of a future together are only wild fantasies, faraway hopes and dreams, and reality crashes down on them both and forces them to their knees before their family names, the harshest reminder of their positions.

Jaehyun is but a dove in a cage, pushing against the bars of captivity. There is nothing left for him to do.

Or maybe there is, and maybe he will have to carve that path out for himself and for Johnny if it is untrodden on, if no one has dared do it before. Jaehyun has never been a coward, and he has never turned tail and ran. If there is a way, even the smallest bit of hope, he will see it through until the end.

He considers the possibilities.

“No,” he says, looks up at Johnny and into dark eyes. “I will no longer bend to my lineage. We have a choice, don’t we?”

His words strike the air sharply, and Johnny takes his wrist, a sudden urgency coming over him. “Love, what do you mean by this?” he asks, hushed.

Deep down, Jaehyun knows that Johnny understands exactly what he means, knows that this is a forbidden line of thought that has crossed both their minds, knows that he cannot let fear hold him back any longer if he is to be free.

“How much are you willing to do for me—for us?”

“Anything,” says Johnny instantly, “everything,” and it is the answer Jaehyun has expected; he is partly relieved and partly scared out of his wits. For all that he knows, he has never quite considered doing what he has in mind now.

He takes a breath. Readies himself. “If I was to run away, pack my bags, and erase myself from nobility forever, would you leave with me?”

“Yes,” Johnny whispers, and then, with a faint smile, “Where else could I go without my heart by my side?”

Overwhelmed with affection, Jaehyun brings his arms around his lover’s neck to kiss him. With Johnny, it has always been simple, and now he possesses a streak of determination fueled by his love for the man who holds him here, close, forever close.

Jaehyun may be a dove in a cage, but he is willing to bend the bars until they break.

♧

In the passing weeks, Jaehyun’s plans reach few people. One; his mother, and two; the eldest three of his siblings. All four regard him in complete silence when he informs them of his decision. There is a prick of sadness in their eyes, but also understanding, knowledge that this is something he needs to do, that it is finally in reach for him to grasp. He’d only needed the courage to leap for it.

“Father will be angry,” Soojung says, waiting at the side as Jaehyun gathers his belongings. He does not have much to bring, never needed the luxuries of what being a noble provided him with. “He’ll demand a search for you immediately.”

“He won’t find us.” _Us_ _._ Jaehyun does not bother to correct his slip of the tongue. He trusts his sister. “Though I worry for you all.”

A smirk breaks across Soojung’s face, tiny but real. “Worry more for yourself and your lover,” she retorts, amused. “We can protect ourselves.”

Pausing, her tone grows a touch more serious. “Father is growing old. It will be Yunho’s time soon, and he has us.”

Her gaze drops to the glint of the ring resting on Jaehyun’s fourth finger—placed in his hand all those months ago—and meets his eyes. Soojung could always see right through him.

“… It is the Seo boy, isn’t it?”

Sighing, Jaehyun brushes a thumb over his ring, unable to help his giddiness whenever he lays eyes on it. They have made a promise together, one that will surely be fulfilled soon. “It has never been anyone else.”

His sister regards him with a strange sort of look, a curious one. “Are you happy with him?” she asks carefully.

“Yes, more than I thought possible.”

It seems to comfort her. “Then I have no objection.” She offers him a smile, genuine, and Jaehyun returns it.

Dawn is breaking, and Johnny is on his way.

Jaehyun’s siblings are gathered at his door, and he says his goodbyes and _I-love-you’_ s to each, holds their hands in his palms and lets the younger ones cling onto him for a little longer, wipes away the tears that fall from their eyes.

“Will you come back?” one of them asks, and Jaehyun falters.

 _Will he?_ What with his father and the tension between his family and the family of the man he loves, will he come back?

Soon, his brother will fill the seat their father occupies. It will be several years before the aggression is broken, even with Yunho’s righteous effort, even with Sooyeon and Soojung by his side.

“Not soon,” Jaehyun settles to say. “Not for a long time. But you will see me again.” He is sure of it.

Soojung accompanies him to the courtyard, quiet. Jaehyun will miss her terribly.

She hugs him once, a protective, loving embrace, having all the more weight to it knowing that their family is not prone to physical affection amongst each other. Among his siblings, she has always been the closest. But Jaehyun’s heart and happiness lie elsewhere, and he can no longer stay here, where it suffocates him—not for her, not for anyone—and she knows better than to try and stop him.

“I love you, always,” he tells her, and she cups his cheek and places one last kiss to his temple.

“Promise me one thing,” she says. “Promise me that you will live out there, truly live, and never restrict yourself to these boundaries again.”

It is her way of telling him she loves him as well, and Jaehyun takes it, along with the promise. “I will.”

“Good,” she says, and drops her stern facade with a quiet laugh. “You go to your boy, now.”

He bids her goodbye, and then goes across the courtyard, to the gates, towards freedom.

It is harsh, the common life, and Jaehyun knows that fully. He understands the consequences of leaving his family, of leaving the respectable Jung name, of turning away from the blinding, mesmerizing wealth and power of the nobility. He understands that there will be nothing shielding him from harm outside, but Jaehyun is made of tenacity and cast-iron from all those years of fighting against restriction and he is not afraid. Not with Johnny.

Johnny, who waits outside the gates of the courtyard, dressed for travel. He has a brightness to his eyes now. Jaehyun adores it. “Have you been waiting long?”

“Not if it’s you,” his lover says, extending a hand towards him. “For you, my love, I will always wait.”

Blithely, Jaehyun laughs, and it feels wonderful to do it so carelessly. “Sap,” he teases, admiring the way the light maps a soft path across Johnny’s face, cooled shadows and gold; he is stunning.

“And you love me,” Johnny quips, mirth dancing in eyes that shine amber with the rays of the sun, and lifts Jaehyun’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring.

Jaehyun has never felt so vibrant. “I do, my dearest, I do.”

The gates close behind him, and it feels like something momentous, a final closure to his time spent as the second son of the Jung estate. He lets his eyes wander over it one last time, the courtyard and its vines and blossoms, the marble pillars and grand structure of the manor.

It is a sight to behold, but he does not belong here. Perhaps he will return one day to see his brothers and sisters. Perhaps he will never return and still see them all the same; the world is vast yet small when it comes to matters of people, and Jaehyun will not be going very far.

“Ready?” Johnny asks.

The sunrise breaks across the horizon, and the scent of flowers drifts through the air with the gentle wind rustling their coats. Spring is coming.

Jaehyun takes a breath, feels their hands joined together and the pulse of his heart, exuberant. The cage has opened, and the dove is fluttering its wings. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jaehyuckist)  
> [curiouscat](http://curiouscat.me/yoonohyuck)  
>  _  
> **prometheus: a titan who, in greek mythology, stole fire from the gods and gave it to mortals. he was known as the thief of fire._  
>   
>  kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated!  
> much love,  
> lin.


End file.
